Thursday, May 12, 2011

My Russian's cousin lives out on a farm deep in the surrounding hills. She had come out of hiding yesterday to buy this year's flowers for her window boxes.

All smiles and warmth, she never fails to warm my heart. We compared notes on what we were picking out, talked about shady spots versus full sun, lice on petunias, the courage to select an unexpected and as yet undiscovered specimen.

She is a hard-core farmer (I have great respect for hard-working rural women) ... but never makes me feel like the gardener en herbe that I really am.